


then you pull me in

by thegrayness



Category: Shetland (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Wooing via Food, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28142976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness
Summary: Jimmy comes home to Duncan cooking dinner. It becomes somewhat of a pattern.
Relationships: Duncan Hunter/Jimmy Perez
Comments: 39
Kudos: 105
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	then you pull me in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Traykor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traykor/gifts).



> Ah it's here! Happy Yuletide, friend! I hope you enjoy your gift!
> 
> Set a few months, maybe, after s5. Also, I took some liberties with the layout of the Perez house, whoops, I was too far deep before I realized.

The wild work hours of an active case always throw Jimmy’s eating. Random to-go pastries on the way to a scene, half a sandwich when he debriefs the day’s progress with the team, a mug of coffee every twelve hours. It doesn’t hit him this time until he’s heading down the steps to his front door, belly tight with hunger pains. 

He unlocks the door, pauses to hang his coat, but gets distracted by the noises and smells of an active kitchen. He peeks his head round the corner to see Duncan in front of the stove, the bottom half of an apron tied around his waist. He’s wearing lounge pants and an old t-shirt, and Jimmy wonders if he left the house at all.

“You expecting company?” Jimmy asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“Aye, he just arrived,” Duncan says, throwing a grin over his shoulder. 

Jimmy blinks at him. 

“You haven’t eaten a proper dinner in a week and I was hungry…” He trails off, gesturing to the stove. “‘S nothin’.” 

Jimmy claps Duncan on the shoulder, his hand lingering of its own accord. His phone buzzes against his leg and he snatches his hand away, fumbling the device out of his pocket. 

“Don’t tell me…” Duncan trails off. Jimmy thinks he hears a note of disappointment, but he’s distracted by the message from Tosh. 

“Ah,” Jimmy grumbles. “Our main suspect just got on a ferry to leave the island.” He clenches his phone in his fist. “I—” He turns back to Duncan.

“I’ll try to save you some—can’t promise.” 

“Aye, ta, Duncan. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He heads back out the door, grabbing his coat again on the way.

*

It’s the middle of the night when Jimmy gets back. He’s nearly asleep on his feet, pushing away the gruesome details of his night. He intends to head straight for his bed, but his gaze catches on a covered plate sitting on the counter. The sink is empty, the pans Duncan used are washed and dried in their places on the shelves, a mostly empty bottle of wine sits next to the plate with an upturned glass beside it. 

Jimmy huffs out a laugh and shakes his head slightly, peeking under the towel before tossing it aside. He picks up the glass and pours the rest of the wine. How gracious of Duncan to leave him one single glass, he thinks, but then starts slightly. It _is_ gracious of Duncan to… _cook_ for him. 

Duncan is probably asleep—it’s late and the door to Cassie’s room is closed—so Jimmy leaves him be. 

He shakes his head slightly and moves around the counter to slide onto one of the stools, pulling the plate and his wine closer. He doesn’t bother warming the food, just tucks in, taking sips of wine between bites of food. It’s _delicious_ , of course.

He lets his eyes close for a moment, jerking awake a second later. That’s settled—time for bed. He leaves the dishes in the sink, he’ll deal with them when he wakes up. Or someone at the station will call him and wake him up with some awful news and he won’t get to it for hours and hours after. 

He changes for bed and crawls under the quilt, passed down from Fran’s gran. He tugs it up to his chin, taking a deep breath, pressing his cheek into the cool pillow. He’s asleep in seconds.

*

They close the case. Jimmy goes to the station to help the team with the reports—police work is paperwork—but decides to head home for lunch for a change, no leads or suspects to chase down, no justice to serve. 

He doesn’t expect Duncan to be at the house, so Jimmy isn’t disappointed when he’s not. He still peeks into Cassie’s room, though, because maybe—

Jimmy pats his belly as it grumbles, and he opens the fridge to poke around, but freezes when he sees that Duncan left him food. It’s a simple sandwich, and there's a scrap piece of paper on top that says _Eat me_ , which makes Jimmy grin. 

He settles in at the counter, and texts Duncan a quick thank you. As he’s locking his phone, it buzzes in his hand, Cassie’s face filling up the screen. It’s a video call, and Jimmy answers, propping the phone against a stack of books. “Hiya, Cass,” he greets before taking a bite of the sandwich. 

“Ye at lunch Dad?”

Jimmy nods. “Paperwork today, thought I’d pop back home for lunch for a change. Duncan left me a sandwich.” He takes another bite, making a small noise—it’s _good_. 

“Duncan… left you a sandwich?”

Jimmy slows his chewing and looks around, confused at the question. “Unless it was a lunch fairy.” Cassie just smiles, the one she gives when she thinks she’s smarter than her dad. “What’s that look for?”

Cassie presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Nothin’, just—he’s been feedin’ ye a lot lately?” 

It’s only been a few meals, surely. On that thought, Jimmy gets a piece of bread caught in his throat and coughs for several minutes, leaving Cassie at the counter while he fills a glass at the sink. He gulps half the glass and fills it again, taking a deep breath before returning to his daughter. 

“Okay, Dad?” She asks, brow furrowed in concern. Jimmy presses his hand to his chest and nods, taking another long drink. He nods. 

“Aye, darlin’.” He sets his glass down. “How’s school?”

Cassie gives him a look like she knows what he’s doing—changing the subject—but she doesn’t call him out, just gives him the brief rundown with very few details that he expected. He asks about Alan and gets a similarly vague answer.

She sounds happy—she _looks_ happy—so Jimmy leaves it be. 

There’s a commotion on Cassie’s end, and she gives her attention to someone off-camera. “Okay, Dad, I’ve got’a go to class,” she says. “Enjoy your sandwich.”

*

When Jimmy walks in the door a few weeks later, he can’t stop his smile as he sees another plate wrapped up on the kitchen counter. He assumes Duncan is asleep in his room—well, Jimmy supposes it’s still Cassie’s room—but he jerks his head up when he hears a snore from the living room. 

Picking up his plate, he rounds the counter and comes to a stop behind the couch, where Duncan is sleeping in what looks like an uncomfortable position. A thick book lies face down on the floor near the couch.

Jimmy takes a bite of food, debating whether or not to wake him. On the one hand, frankly, they’re both too old to sleep overnight on a sofa like this. On the other, Duncan looks so damn peaceful that Jimmy’s loathe to disturb him.

He stands there eating, hemming and hawing, before deciding grumpy-from-being-awoken Duncan for a few minutes tonight will be much better than grumpy-from-aching-muscles Duncan all day tomorrow. He sets his plate down on the low table and sits on the edge of the sofa.

Duncan’s murmuring urgently in his sleep, and Jimmy frowns. He reaches out, laying a big palm on Duncan’s cheek, fingers digging slightly into the back of his neck. 

“Duncan,” he whispers, slipping his hand down to grip Duncan’s shoulder. “Hey, you’ve got to get to bed.” Jimmy gives Duncan’s shoulder a little shake. When he doesn’t stir, Jimmy shoves him a little harder.

Duncan jerks awake, his hand flying up to grip Jimmy’s wrist tightly—too tightly. “Ah, it’s me, Duncan, it’s Jimmy,” he says loudly. “You’re all right.”

He keeps his hold on Jimmy’s wrist, loosening slightly, as he gasps for breath, eyes blinking slowly. “Time is it?” He asks, voice hoarse from sleep. 

Jimmy can see the dampness around Duncan’s hairline, even in the low light of the room, and wonders if—

“Nightmare?” It hasn’t been that long since Duncan discovered the bodies on the beach, and he’s mentioned, offhand, how the trauma is affecting his sleep. Jimmy suggested a local counselor, but as far as he knows Duncan hasn’t called. 

Duncan clears his throat and shakes his head, but it’s unconvincing as Jimmy feels Duncan’s hand tremble against his arm. He squeezes Duncan’s shoulder again, using his other hand to loosen Duncan’s fingers around his arm. He means to let go, once Duncan’s relaxed, but he doesn’t—he fits their hands together properly, touching Duncan at two points now, and waits. 

After a few minutes, Duncan lets go of Jimmy’s hand and turns onto his back, taking a deep breath and exhaling noisily. He rubs his hand over his face, and then up through his hair—Jimmy’s fingers twitch with the desire to follow the same path. 

“Okay?” Jimmy asks, even though he knows the answer.

Duncan sighs again. “It comes out’a nowhere,” he says softly. “When ‘m not—not ready, y’know?”

“Aye, I know,” Jimmy says. He picks up the book—Duncan must have dropped it when he fell asleep— and sets it on the table. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” Jimmy stands so Duncan can swing his socked feet to the floor, and then he guides Duncan off the couch with a hand pressed to his biceps. He’s wearing a soft jumper—it’s not his usual style—and Jimmy lets his hand linger on the material for a moment. He’s—being helpful. 

Duncan gives him a sleepy smile and pats Jimmy's shoulder. “Night, Jimmy,” he says before shuffling in the direction of his room. 

Jimmy answers with his own goodnight, and picks up his plate from the table. He scoops a few more bites into his mouth on his way to the kitchen before dumping it into the sink. He can see the door to Cassie’s room. Duncan’s room, for now, until Cass returns from uni. 

He blames it on exhaustion when he has the thought… 

… he doesn’t really want Duncan to find a new place. 

*

It’s Jimmy’s day off and by the time he wakes, Duncan’s already at the bistro. He’d gone over the next phase of construction with Jimmy the night before—but if Jimmy’s honest with himself, he doesn’t remember much. 

When he thinks back to their conversation, he mostly just remembers the lightness of Duncan’s tone, the loose set of his shoulders, his near-frantic energy as he rifled through his papers. It reminded Jimmy of the real Duncan. Before the trafficking case. Before the McCall case. 

Jimmy’s starving when he finally gets home from running errands, and he pulls open his now-fully stocked fridge. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he shuts the fridge without making any decisions. It’s a text from Duncan. There’s some kind of construction delay, so he has to stay late at the bistro. 

Jimmy checks the time—he hasn’t been to the bistro in a while, figures he should check on his investment. Figures _Duncan_ would want him to check on his investment. He vaguely recalls the artist’s rendering, and wonders how close the real thing will come when it’s finally finished. 

He stops for pizza on the way, making an educated guess that Duncan’ll be hungry too, and pulls up to the storefront. He sees movement inside, seems like more than one person, and Jimmy hopes there’s not too much of a crew. Not that he—he just didn’t bring pizza for a party, is all. 

Jimmy pulls open the door to find Duncan chatting with his project manager, but he doesn’t look tense, so things must be better than they were a few hours earlier when Duncan texted. Duncan looks over and gives Jimmy a grin. Jimmy gives a small wave back and nods his head to the card table in the corner. 

The table is covered in various papers, and Jimmy sets the pizza on a chair while he tidies them and moves them onto a pile of boxes filled with floor tile. Duncan already has two lagers sitting out on the bartop, and Jimmy feels comfortable assuming one is for him. He grabs both. 

It sounds like Duncan is wrapping up his conversation, so Jimmy waits to open the pizza, popping the lid on his beer instead. There’s an easel in the corner with a full-size version of the artist’s impression, Duncan’s “mood board” propped up in front of it. Jimmy has no idea what a mood board is, but when Duncan had shown it to him a few months ago over another takeaway pizza, he’d been so excited that Jimmy just went with it.

The project manager waves as he leaves, and Jimmy raises his hand back. He opens the pizza lid as Duncan strides over, but Duncan pauses next to the table. He looks like he wants to say something, or maybe lean in for a hug. Jimmy looks from the pizza back to Duncan, and he’s about to stand up for that hug when Duncan pats him gently on the shoulder, hand lingering on his biceps as he pulls away. 

“Ah, ‘m starvin’, Jimmy, this is great,” he says, dropping into the seat across the table. He takes a long pull of his drink, taking a deep breath as he sets it down. 

They each take a slice, eating in companionable silence for a few minutes. “Long day?” Jimmy says, can’t really stand the quiet, can’t handle no buffer between them. He doesn’t want the opportunity to watch Duncan when he’s distracted with food, because Jimmy knows he _will_. 

This is—Jimmy’s tried not to really think about it—about Duncan. It’s too complicated. For Cassie, for Duncan, for _Jimmy_. 

Alice was right. Maybe… doing what Jimmy does, here in Shetland, it’s better to be alone. It’s his choice. But he’d… he’d asked Duncan to stay. Almost begged him. 

Jimmy chose that, right? Chose Duncan?

“Are you listening? Jimmy,” Duncan exclaims, and Jimmy jerks his head up, shoving those thoughts back into the box he keeps them in. “All right? You look—dunno, you look lost.”

Jimmy shakes his head. “Fine, fine.” He takes a bite of his pizza. “Just thinking.” 

Duncan grins and heads behind the bar—well-stocked even though the place is far from open. “Careful with that,” he jokes, and Jimmy scoffs and eats the last bite of his slice. 

“So, what d’you think of the place so far?” Duncan asks when he returns with fresh drinks for them both. He looks around the space, eyes shining with pride. “She looks good, doesn’t she?”

“Aye,” Jimmy says softly, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Duncan. “You’ve done a great job.” 

Duncan faces him now, but he dips his head, bashful. “Ta,” he murmurs. “Just—” he looks up again, eyes clear and intense. “Just trying not to destroy another good thing in my life.”

Jimmy doesn’t think he’s just talking about the bistro. 

Jimmy _hopes_ he’s not just talking about the bistro.

*

Duncan isn’t there when Jimmy gets home. He’s not supposed to be at the bistro today, he’d told Jimmy as much over breakfast, so Jimmy is surprised. He hangs his coat up and wanders into the kitchen, noting there’s no tidily wrapped plate of food waiting for him on the counter. He tries hard to resist opening the fridge—just in case there isn’t a plate in there either. He doesn’t want to deal with the disappointment twice. He hadn’t even realized how high his hopes were. 

He peeks into Duncan’s room, finding it empty. He walks into the living room, circles aimlessly around the couch, swings into the dining room. He shuffles a few papers around, reading a letter from Cassie’s school that he’s already read. 

Jimmy heaves a deep sigh. It’s not like he expects Duncan to be _waiting_ for him. That would be—they’re housemates.

Well— 

The front door opens before Jimmy can really get started on that train of thought and he nearly stumbles into the living room to see.

“Jimmy?” Duncan calls from the front hall. “I thought I’d get back before you,” he explains stepping into the kitchen and dropping a canvas bag on the table. “I ran out to the market.”

“Oh?” Jimmy replies, his voice cracking. He clears his throat. “Are you cooking again?”

Duncan grins. “You want me to?” 

Jimmy slides onto a stool at the counter and clasps his hands. “Aye,” he says softly. He keeps his eyes on his hands.

Duncan pauses in putting away the food. “Jimmy?” He asks, voice matching Jimmy’s. He leans his forearms on the counter, and Jimmy can see him dip his head to try and catch his eyes. “What’s the matter? Bad case?”

Jimmy huffs out a laugh. “No, no, not that.” He shakes his head. 

“You wanna help with dinner? Cass always said you love cooking.”

Jimmy smiles at the mention of Cassie, and at the suggestion that they could cook together. 

He _does_ want that. 

“Aye, c’mon.” Duncan slaps Jimmy’s biceps. “It’ll be fun.”

It is fun, turns out. He helps Duncan make tomato sauce for pasta, happy to have something to do with his hands as he chops every veggie Duncan puts in front of him. He’s doing great, he thinks, until Duncan finds it necessary to correct his knife skills, laying his hand gently on top of Jimmy’s to adjust the angle he’s using for onions. 

It’s fleeting, only a few seconds, but Jimmy swears he feels Duncan’s breath on his cheek and his hand tingles for a while after Duncan moves back to the stove. Jimmy sets the knife down when he’s done and takes a huge gulp of wine from the glass Duncan poured him when they started. He takes a deep breath and turns to lean back against the counter, watching Duncan stir. There are a lot more steps involved in this version of pasta than any dish he’s ever made.

Duncan gestures for the cutting board full of ingredients and Jimmy carefully hands it over, watching as Duncan focuses on scraping them into the bubbling pot. He gives it another stir and then reaches over to another burner to turn the flame on. 

“Okay, now we wait a bit,” he says, topping off his own wine glass and holding out the bottle towards Jimmy with a questioning expression. Jimmy nods. Aye, more wine.

They both sit on stools at the counter, shoulders brushing as they drink their wine. They chat about the bistro—there’s around a month of work left to do; about Cass—awkwardly avoiding the subject of Duncan moving out of her room; about Alan—things aren’t great but they’re better than they were. It’s horribly domestic, especially when Duncan smooths his hand across Jimmy’s shoulder as he gets up to add the pasta to the boiling water.

“Cassie’s always telling me pasta should be served al dente,” Jimmy says. He blinks at himself, glad that Duncan’s facing away from him. 

“Aye, who taught her that, do you think?” Duncan grins over his shoulder. “She did eat at my house, y’know.” 

Jimmy laughs. “Okay, okay. So you’re a better cook.”

Duncan moves back to the counter, leaning his hands on the edge. “It’s not a competition, Jimmy. Not anymore, at least?”

Jimmy meets Duncan’s gaze and his eyes are serious, intense. It makes Jimmy breathless so he takes a sip of his wine to get his bearings. Duncan’s giving him a soft smile when he looks again, and Jimmy’s glad he’s already sitting down. Sometimes he can’t tell if Duncan is just being Duncan—charming and flirty as always—or if it’s… different. 

If it’s for Jimmy. 

The pasta water bubbles over on the stove, and the hissing noise startles them both. Duncan turns to tend to the pot, and Jimmy drains the rest of his glass. He finishes off the bottle, refilling both glasses. 

Duncan comes back over with a piece of pasta in his hand. “This is al dente—”

“I know what al dente is—”

“—Just eat the pasta,” Duncan says, exasperated. He brings his hand closer to Jimmy’s mouth.

Jimmy leans closer and takes the piece, pulling it into his mouth and miraculously managing not to eat Duncan’s whole finger at the same time. Though he’s not exactly sure if that’s a good thing. 

He doesn’t think Duncan would mind. 

“Good?” Duncan asks. 

Jimmy can’t form words so he just nods as he chews. He’s not thinking about whether or not it’s good, but Duncan smiles and Jimmy finds he doesn’t care. 

“Aye,” Duncan nods and carefully drains the pasta. “Should we eat at the table?”

Jimmy blinks. They usually just eat at the counter. Or on the couch. He turns to look at the dining table. It’s free of all the papers and folders that are usually strewn over the surface, and Jimmy wonders if Duncan tidied up hoping Jimmy would say _yes, let’s eat at the table_. 

He remembers Duncan talking about undercurrents, a while back. _The stuff of life_ , he’d said. 

Jimmy stands up. “Duncan,” he says, voice firm. Duncan turns around from where he’s standing at the stove, finger in his mouth, probably catching a stray bit of sauce. Duncan raises his brows in question. “I—I don’t want undercurrents,” Jimmy forces out. But, no that’s not— 

Duncan looks around the room. “Sorry?”

Jimmy sighs, frustrated. “I mean—” He gives up and walks around the counter, standing in front of Duncan.

Duncan has a spoon in his hand and he puts it down before giving Jimmy his full attention. It’s a bit intimidating, but Jimmy is a Detective Inspector and he can definitely address his growing affection for his—for Duncan. 

“I want to know what you’re—I want to know if this—” he gestures vaguely between them, “—is just my imagination. Because I don’t have the energy to just guess—” 

“Aye, okay, okay,” Duncan murmurs as he shuffles forward, their toes bumping. “It’s—the food didn’t give me away?”

Jimmy huffs out a laugh, relieved. “Nearly. I just have to be sure.” He inhales roughly as Duncan’s hands flutter in the vicinity of Jimmy’s shoulders. Jimmy catches them in his own, bringing them back down to their sides, but not letting go. He leans forward, tilting his chin down slightly to brush his forehead against Duncan’s. “So?”

Duncan’s eyes are clear, and bright, and they get lighter as he grins. “So? Are you gonna kiss me or do I have to bake scones, too?”

Jimmy opens his mouth to tell Duncan off about the scones, but Duncan doesn’t give him the chance, leaning in and nudging his nose against Jimmy’s before closing the space between their lips. 

It’s so gentle, and quick, and when Duncan pulls away Jimmy could convince himself it didn’t even happen. Except he’s winded, breath coming in quick pants, and his lips tingle, sparking even though Duncan’s put some space between them again. 

Jimmy doesn’t realize his eyes are closed until he opens them to see Duncan’s face, expression nervous, uncertain. Jimmy stares at his lips, slightly pinker just from their brief kiss. He looks like he’s going to say something, but Jimmy goes in for more. 

Duncan makes a noise, it sounds like a squeak, and Jimmy can’t help but laugh against his mouth. “Surprised me,” Duncan says, and Jimmy can hear the pout in his voice, but he opens his eyes again and sees a smile on his lips. 

“Properly, now,” Jimmy whispers, letting go of Duncan’s hands and resting his own gently on Duncan’s slim hips. 

“Aye, properly,” Duncan says, and then he’s leaning up as he walks Jimmy backward. 

He can’t concentrate on walking while Duncan’s kissing him, so he nearly stumbles before his back hits the wall. He’s grateful for the support, because Duncan slides his hands up Jimmy’s chest, resting on his neck, cradling his face. 

Jimmy is still gripping Duncan’s hips, harder than before, and he uses his hold to pull Duncan closer, reveling in Duncan’s answering groan. 

Jimmy’s phone chimes from its spot on the counter and Duncan curses, his hands sliding over Jimmy’s shoulders. “Case?” Duncan asks, voice hoarse. Jimmy nods. “Was hoping to have you to m’self.” 

The admission—the confirmation—surges through Jimmy and he kisses Duncan again, hard and quick, before moving to grab his phone as it chimes again. 

“‘Lo,” he answers. His voice is rough, too.

“Sir?” Tosh asks. 

“Aye, Tosh, what is it?” Jimmy asks, half listening and half watching Duncan shuffle back to the bowl of pasta. Tosh explains that their suspect’s alibi fell apart. “Right, okay, you and Sandy go find him, I’ll meet you at the station.”

He keeps space between himself and Duncan, once he hangs up, because he has to go and if he gets within touching distance, he’ll never leave—not with the way Duncan is smirking at him, mussed strands of his hair falling over his forehead. 

“I have to go,” Jimmy says. 

“When’ll you be back?”

Jimmy smiles. “Think you’ll miss me?”

“Aye, I know I will.” 

Duncan moves toward him as Jimmy puts on his coat, but he stops Duncan with a hand to his chest. “Duncan,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. Duncan ignores him and pushes right into his space again, fitting himself against Jimmy’s chest. Jimmy automatically wraps his arms around Duncan’s back.

Jimmy feels Duncan’s breath on his neck as he sighs. Jimmy shudders, and Duncan murmurs something Jimmy can’t hear, then wraps his arms around Jimmy’s waist beneath his jacket. A few moments pass, Jimmy resting his cheek on Duncan’s head. 

Duncan squeezes him and kisses his throat, easing back a bit and looking into Jimmy’s eyes. “Come back,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to Jimmy’s cheek.

He steps away, and Jimmy feels cold even though he’s got his jacket on already. “I’ll see you soon.”

*

Jimmy doesn’t make it back until the wee hours, frustrated over the case and anxious about leaving things with Duncan—unresolved. There’s no plate of food on the counter, which makes Jimmy’s heart ache, but as he hangs his coat and steps closer, he sees a note. 

_Come to bed_.

Jimmy’s heart races. The floor creaks and he turns to see Duncan standing in the doorway of Jimmy’s bedroom. He looks rumpled, like he just woke up, wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of flannel pants. He looks nervous again, the same uncertain look he had after their—their first kiss. 

The thought of it makes Jimmy’s feet move. He wants Duncan to know he’s sure. 

When Jimmy steps in front of him, his face brightens into a sleepy smile. “Hey,” he mumbles, leaning against the doorframe. “Long night?” Duncan brushes his hand over Jimmy’s side, coming to rest at his hip. 

“Aye,” Jimmy whispers. “But I’m home now.”

Duncan’s lips tilt up into a grin, and Jimmy sways forward to taste it. It’s a mess—their teeth clack together briefly and they’re both too busy smiling to fit their mouths together, but Duncan drags Jimmy into the room, kicking the door shut behind them. 

*

Jimmy wakes with a start to Duncan’s forearm thrown across his neck, practically choking him, and he shoves at the offending limb. “Christ, Duncan, you have the whole other side of the bed,” he grumbles, making an attempt to turn him over. The sun is streaming in the window, and Jimmy fumbles for his mobile to check the time as Duncan moans himself awake. 

“Fuck, Jimmy, why’d you wake me.”

“You’re lyin’ on top of me, cuttin’ off my air,” Jimmy says, elbowing him for good measure. 

Duncan mumbles something, shoving Jimmy’s shoulder, before immediately snuggling in closer. He’s aggressive when he nudges Jimmy’s arm out of the way, headbutting his way into the crook. “So annoying,” Duncan mutters, wrapping his arms around Jimmy’s waist before settling back down.

Jimmy stares at the top of Duncan’s head. “‘Morning to you, too, I suppose.”

Duncan groans. “‘M tryin’ for a wee cuddle, Jimmy, can you please—” 

He doesn’t continue, so Jimmy leaves him be, shifting down the bed to get into a more comfortable position. He’s nearly back asleep when Duncan speaks again. “How’re we gonna tell Cass?” He says quietly. His eyes are still closed, nose pressed into Jimmy’s chest. 

“Right, well, I’m pretty sure she already knows.”

“She’s too smart.”

“Aye, wonder who she gets that from,” Jimmy says.

Duncan huffs out a short laugh, and then Jimmy hears his breathing even out. He kisses the top of Duncan’s head and follows him into sleep. 


End file.
